I really hope it’s true that when we die we become unicorns because today my friend died.

You know when someone dies and there’s that weird transitional period where you’re not quite comfortable using the past tense to describe that person? That’s where I am right now.

Fuck.
I don’t want to say he WAS an amazing person. That’s what you say about people who weren’t amazing.

But this guy is. Was. And his surprise death helped me figure out why we fear dying so much. I think it’s because love is real and it’s the best thing we have.  And it fucking hurts when it’s gone. Suddenly. One moment: love. Another moment: half of love.

That’s why we fear death.
That’s why I already miss my friend, Mike DeStefano.

I met him two years ago.
I was stuffed in some office cubicle at some horrible advertising job. His story came on the Moth podcast. This very one:

You should make the time to listen to it because his writing is so honest and real and you’ll cry. Big, fat, lovable tears. If you don’t listen to his story, I’ll tell you the scoop: He and his wife did a lot of heroin years ago. So much so that they got HIV. She got sick. And he devoted his life to taking care of her. But she died and then his dad died and then he wanted to die. And, man, I’m not doing his story justice. Just fucking watch it. He was ready to commit suicide when he ran into this Tibetan monk who taught him meditation. And he turned to telling jokes and getting his story out, and he was probably the original Taboo Taler.

And there I was in that cubicle trying to write some shitty ads for some shitty bank and instead I just sat there stunned and firing off tears. And so I emailed him. I told him he was inspiring. And that I was happy he didn’t commit suicide because the world needed people like him to tell stories like his. And he emailed me right back.

And we talked a lot. And he told me I needed to tell my stories too. And he read this blog. And he supported me. And he tried to connect me to all the right people. And he told me that I wasn’t cut out for a cubicle job. And that meant the world to me. And I felt like he could see me. I felt like I had someone in my corner.

Mike was the only person who could call you a cunty whore without being offensive. He’s the only person who I didn’t make fun of for NEVER using the correct ‘your’ or ‘there.’ Seriously, he could not get that shit right. But I totally fucking accepted him. And he accepted me. And we were just two fucked up people sitting across from each other at dinner and that’s how we liked it. Sometimes there’s nothing better than being with someone else who is just as fucked as you are. I just felt calm with him. I felt safe. He was my lama, and he took all the pain away and made me feel normal and loved. And I asked myself if I could marry someone with HIV. That bastard seriously made me contemplate some deep shit.

Everyone who ever met Mike probably shed some tears today. He made us all feel like he woke up in the morning just for us. He’s not crying. But here we are eating pizza in bed and feeling sad for ourselves because we won’t get to see him again. Grieving seems so selfish to me sometimes.

In this case, I think grieving is more than that. So much of me is devastated that his message didn’t get to more people, that more people didn’t have the privilege of learning from him. But I think it got to enough. I think he figured out how to really make his life mean something. He didn’t have to. He could have gotten depressed and overdosed or gone crazy from all the pain he witnessed. But he chose not to. He chose to help people instead.

If you haven’t already, learn something from his story. Listen to his jokes. Buy his CD from iTunes. Here are some of my favorite DeStefano quotes:

“I went into a Chinese restaurant. They had a suggestion box so I wrote: FREE TIBET.”

“I take something that I find interesting. And it’s usually something that’s painful, that people find revolting, that has hurt me personally or I see hurting other people. And I’ll go up [on stage] and I’ll just bring it up. And it’s such a thrill to find the funny in it.”
See why he was my mentor?

On National Pride:
“It’s so stupid the shit we’re proud of. You know how you came to be, sir? Your parents fucked. That’s how it happened. There’s nothing to be proud of. For any of us. Your parents had sex. And your dad wanted a blow job that night. How’s that feel? You’re just a blow job that got out of hand.”

“People think I’m dark. I think you’re too light. That’s the fucking problem. Too much fake fucking optimism. Fake fucking positive thoughts. Positive affirmations. Fuck you. You’re so full of shit, man. I just want people to know that I know. Fuck you.”

“People who are scared of commitment. They’re good people. That means they know what commitment is.”

On his censoring on NBC:
“It’s not NBC’s fault. It’s the American people, all these litigious people… All you people that want to sue all the time because your feelings got hurt. You fucking weak, pathetic, fucks. I’m gonna write a letter. It’s all white people too.”

“I love people who are aware of how fucked up life is.”

“I start from suffering and darkness because that’s what needs to be made light of.”

“If a comic starts off a joke with ‘Isn’t it funny when…,’ they’ve already lost me. If it’s already funny, what the fuck do I need you for?”

Mikey D… A fucking heart attack? Really? You survived HIV and heroin and that’s how you go? You’re a fucking pussy.
You know what else, you fucking whore? Thanks for living as long as you did, long enough to touch so many lives with so much of the positivity you pretended not to have. I fucking love you.  And I still do and there’s no way I’m switching to past tense on that one.

*The F word and all its variations in this post sponsored by Mike DeStefano.